Whipstitch
by Senashenta
Summary: He wakes up in the forest, alone and lost in the night, with only a stray cat for company: and to top it all off, he has no idea who he is! Now Snow has a long journey ahead of him if he wants to figure out his real identity and learn the cause of his amnesia. But hey, at least Abby and Xia have his back... right?
1. Wake

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to their author.

**Notes:** This is something that just popped up in my head out of nowhere, and the whole story pretty much manifested itself just as fast. This is very uncommon for me—usually I have to brainstorm quite a bit. Not complaining, though! Haha. :)

**WHIPSTITCH  
Prologue: Wake  
By Senashenta**

Crystal eyes blinked open suddenly, pupils dilating sharply as they attempted to focus through the blackness of midnight.

A split second later, a white body attempted to heave to its feet—wobbled, knees buckling, and fell down once more, only to try once again. And again. And again. The fourth time his legs stayed under him. He rested a moment then, until his legs stopped threatening to give out on him again. And once he felt sure of himself, he took a few tentative steps forward, hooves soft and nearly silent on the forest floor.

It was more than simply_ dark _out—it was black as pitch, the sky, moon and stars obscured by the canopy of trees above him.

The darkness wasn't that much of a worry, though, as he was sure that even if it was daytime he would not have been able to tell where he was—only that he was in a forest somewhere, lost and alone—and, he realized with a start, no clue whatsoever _who he was_.

The worrying fact was that he simply didn't remember anything before a few moment prior when he had woken up.

He shifted uneasily, restlessly, ears swivelling back and forth to take in all the sounds around him: the rustle of leaves in the easy breeze, the far-off hoot of an owl, the soft, fluttering sounds of a bat flying overhead. He could recognize them all, but none of them were of any particular familiarity.

Then there were the soft, barely audible footfalls, muffled in the grass behind him. White ears snapped back and he whirled quickly, sapphire eyes wide but unable to see who—or what—was coming up on him.

_Calm._

Something small and soft rubbed along the lower part of his front left leg. He froze at the feeling—but then carefully lowered his head until his nose touched lightly against whatever-it-was. Oh. A cat. The tiny creature continued rubbing against him, and after a moment he could hear a soft, rumbling purr. Somehow it was comforting. He relaxed a little, lipping at the nape of the cat's neck lightly before straightening again to survey his surroundings.

As before, he could see nothing beyond the night.

_:Well,: _He told the cat, and blew a breath out of his nose quietly. _:I guess we're _both_ lost, aren't we?:_


	2. Rise

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to their author.

**Notes:** It is very hard to write a whole chapter where the main character doesn't have a name. ._.;

**WHIPSTITCH  
Chapter One: Rise  
By Senashenta**

While not knowing who he was beyond just troubling, somehow things seemed a little less bleak once the sun rose beyond the trees and the forest was filled with light—shadowed and faded, filtered through the canopy above him, but at least he could see.

The cat remained with him in the daylight, too. She—somehow he knew it was a "she" and not a "he"—was an orange tabby, scruffy, with part of her tail missing and a tattered left ear. Both the injuries were obviously old and healed over, causing no pain and not hindering her at all. Besides the scars, she seemed healthy, though slim and wiry—obviously not someone's pet. This was a stray cat, feral, a hunter. She probably made her home in the woods he found himself lost in. And for some reason that he didn't understand she had decided he made a good companion.

Currently she was curled up beside him, tucked against his side and fast asleep. He watched her breathing in and out, trying to decide if he should stand and disturb her or not before finally reaching to prod her with his nose, attempting to wake her gently. It was either that or simply stand with no notice and send her tumbling head-over-rump through the grass.

_:Come on.:_ The gentle nudging did little to move her. She simply sighed and tucked her head under one of her paws. _:Hey. I'm trying to wake you up here, cat.:_

_Xia._

The thought was abrupt and made him pause, tilting his head in consideration. Somehow it seemed to fit. And it was better than simply calling her "cat".

_:Come on, Xia. Time to get up. I have to get going.:_

This time the little beast stirred, lifting her head to look at him before very pointedly yawning in his direction. He snorted at that, then watched her stand and stretch slowly, her back end and stubby tail rising and her front paws kneading the ground in front of her. Once she was done that, she arched her back slightly, then sat down again and turned surprisingly blue eyes back to him, almost curiously.

_:Thank you.:_ He waited another split second to make sure she was sufficiently out of the way, then stood and gave himself a good shake to get rid of any stray bits of grass or leaves that might have gotten stuck to his coat while he had been resting.

Now that he was standing, though, he paused again to quietly survey the area. Trees, trees and more trees. His eyes flitted upward to the foliage above him. Dust motes floated through what daylight was filtering through to the ground below, but no matter how hard he squinted he couldn't tell which direction the sun was moving, and even if he had been able to, he didn't know which way he should be going in the first place.

A light rub of whiskers at his ankle. He sighed and looked down at Xia.

_:Just pick a direction, huh?: _Then a soft, half-amused nicker. _:Yeah, you're probably right. Not like I can get any more lost than I already am.: _

He shrugged, a ripple of silver hide, then nudged Xia out of the way and started walking—he didn't make it far before he realized the little cat was trailing along behind him, footsteps nearly silent, barely audible but there nonetheless. His ears flicked at the sound and he paused, craning his neck to look behind himself. When he stopped, Xia did as well—and tilted her head a little, seeming curious why he had stopped walking.

_:Hey. Stay. You live here, yeah? Go back home like a good kitty.:_

Orange ears went back. Xia twitched her whiskers and sat down, still looking at him innocently.

_:I go. You stay. Good girl.:_

Having said his piece, he turned back around and started walking again, at which point he learned that Xia was _stubborn_—which, he vaguely thought, was kind of an all-encompassing statement when it came to cats of all kinds. Glancing back briefly, he watched Xia follow along behind him—loping to keep up with his much larger strides—and, after another moment's consideration, resigned himself to her company.

Maybe, he thought, she was associating him with people and hoped by following him that she might find a warm hearth to sleep by and a bowl of milk each evening. But that didn't make very much sense, as he wasn't human himself and she had no way of knowing if or when he might encounter people in the future.

And all that just brought up even more questions about his identity, because he knew he wasn't human—that much was obvious—but still couldn't remember his own name, his life, or what he actually was. All he_ did_ know was that a very succinct voice in the back of his head was telling him firmly that he was _not. A. Horse._

Considering what he could see and feel about himself, that statement was questionable, though, because he certainly _felt_ like a horse, from his hooves to his nose, his mane to his tail and the niggling craving for sweet grass and clover that was starting to make his stomach growl. Saying he wasn't a horse was like saying the sky wasn't blue, the grass wasn't green or that Xia wasn't a cat. Obviously there was some kind of confusion in the recesses of his mind, which he decided was probably in some way related to the entire amnesia debacle.

_Smoke._

The scent of burning wood brought him out of his thoughts with a jolt and he lifted his nose to the wind, sniffing experimentally.

Fire, to his way of thinking, meant one of two things: either someone was nearby—or the forest was ablaze. If it was the first scenario, he could go and find the person responsible and, hopefully, get their help. If it was the second, then the _last _direction he wanted to go was toward the flames. The question was: how was he supposed to tell—

Xia ran past him at that moment, practically bolting toward the source of the smoke-smell.

He was still for a few breaths as he considered this before breaking into a trot to follow after her. After all, this was likely her forest, her home, so she would be much more familiar with the sights, sounds and scents around them than he was. She could probably tell whether the smoke was a good sign or a bad one—and considering that she was currently running _toward _it, he had to assume it was the prior of those two options.

Besides which, it somehow didn't seem like _enough _smoke to be a full-blown forest fire.

In the end, though, he found himself trusting the scruffy cat's judgement (perhaps against the better of his own.) So he continued following along behind her as she ran, struggling to keep up as she darted in and out of the underbrush, between trees and over fallen limbs with the kind of grace only a feline could possess. He was barely able to keep her in his sight at times as he pushed and forced his way through the thick bushes and trees that she skirted so easily. In the end, something of his size and bulk really wasn't meant for such tight quarters.

Thankfully, the push-pull half-run was over quickly. After only a few short minutes, he shoved through yet another thicket of bushes—snorted when his tail got caught on a wayward branch—and then half-stumbled out into a clearing.

Catching himself in time to avoid a face-first meeting with the ground, he shook his head, mane flying, then looked back toward his rear end, where his tail was still tangled up in the foliage. Twisting a little, he tried to pull it out—and was met with limited success. Irritated, he pulled harder—then gave a little half-buck, strictly out of annoyance, when that didn't help either.

"Heh. Got yerself caught up there, did you?"

The voice came out of nowhere and startled him so much that he actually jumped a little. Distracted from his tail for the time being, he snorted and brought his head around quickly.

Across the clearing, seated next to a small campfire, was a middle-aged man. He was watching him with a glint of humour in his eyes, smiling to himself as if he found the _Not Horse _and his current predicament to be funny. All he got for his amusement was a glare that could have singed the hair right off his head.

"Well," The man brushed his hands on his trousers, then stood slowly without taking his eyes away from the scene before him. "Not often someone sees somethin' as pretty as you are, is it?" Even as he was speaking, he was reaching to his side—and soon his hand came back up, this time with a rope clasped in his fingers. "Yeh… handsome boy, aren't you?"

An unimpressed look levelled on him from bright sapphire eyes, but with his tail still caught up in the bushes behind him, he couldn't really do much else, even as the man approached him, one hand held out in a placating gesture and murmuring quiet, generic reassurances under his breath.

"Good boy. There's a boy. What a good horse. Too bad yer owner lost track of you," and then; "you'll fetch a pretty penny at the market…"

He froze at that—and glared daggers even as the rope was tossed and looped easily around his neck. _:I. Am. Not. A. Horse!: _And he certainly wasn't going to be taken to a _market _and _sold _like one. _:Get off!:_

There was barely any time to even register the surprise on the man's face before he half-jumped forward, ripping his tail free—he left a handful of white hair behind, still caught in the bushes—and yanking the rope from the man's hand at the same time. Then he was off to the other side of the clearing like a shot—just a blur of silver and white.

By the fire, Xia had her head pushed into an old camping pot and was licking up the remnants of whatever had last been cooked in it as if the entire scene around her wasn't even happening. He gave _her _a glare, too, just for good measure, then backed up some more when the man began to take slow steps toward him again. The stupid human just couldn't take _oh hell no _for an answer, apparently, as he was already trying to reach for the end of the rope once more.

Tossing his head, he flicked the rope away, then snorted again, turned his back and disappeared into the forest once more. Behind him, the man swore loudly—and Xia finally seemed to notice something was going on, for she abandoned the pot in the blink of an eye and quickly bounded after him into the woods.


	3. Learn

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to their author.

**Notes:** Everybody, meet Snow! Snow, meet everybody!

**WHIPSTITCH  
Chapter Two: Learn  
By Senashenta**

The two of them quickly left the clearing, the fire and the luckless man far behind them, but, unsurprisingly, trudging through the forest with a five-foot length of rope dangling from around his neck was even harder than doing so without it. It got caught up in everything and was a royal pain to untangle. He found himself muttering curses to no one in particular, because on top of dragging the rope along, his rear end hurt like hell, now: it was a wonder he wasn't bleeding all over the place, considering the size of the chunk of tail he'd left behind.

And on top of it all, he was still completely lost and with a cat for his only company.

Not that Xia was _bad_ company, but she definitely wasn't very skilled in the art of conversation and by late afternoon he was starting to very much crave someone to talk to—not to mention someone who might be able to help him get rid of the rope, and maybe even provide him with some_ food_, because as much as he was sure he could make a meal of browsing plants, somehow the ones all around him didn't seem very appetizing.

As if in agreement with his train of thought, his stomach took the opportunity to growl loudly. If he didn't get something to eat soon it would probably start tucking in to his backbone. Xia, on the other hand, seemed to be doing fine—probably because of whatever it was she had filched from the man's pot back there. All _he'd _gotten, while she was scarfing down her breakfast, was _lassoed_.

He huffed at that… then sighed, his steps pausing as he looked around. Off to the side, Xia seemed focused on stalking something in the weeds. He watched her pounce—then pop back out of the bushes with a large cricket in her mouth. She looked very pleased with herself. He just levelled an unimpressed look on her, then started walking again.

Clearly feeling playful, the cat romped after him, chasing the dangling rope end as he continued on.

_Clearing._

Not another one. He stopped in his tracks. Sunlight filtered through an obvious break in the trees ahead of him. Theoretically, he should have been excited at the idea of escaping his forest prison, but given his experience at the _last _clearing they'd stumbled upon, he was understandably a little leery.

Behind him, Xia's interest in the rope disappeared the minute it stopped moving, and she poked at it once or twice more before padding up to sit beside him, blue eyes focused on the clearing ahead. Then she seemed to almost shrug, stood again, and trotted forward, disappearing past the tree line. The little beast really appeared to have no fear whatsoever. He wished that he could say the same for himself.

_:Xia, wait up.:_ Finally, he called after her and moved forward himself, hesitantly pushing through the last few trees between himself and the sunshine beyond.

This clearing was larger than the last one. In the far corner, a bubbling stream ran through the edge—and in the very center was a large fire pit, situated next to a small, one-room building with a tiled roof and only one tiny window in one side.

At first it seemed to be unoccupied. Xia was sniffing around the edge of the fire pit—she sneezed slightly when she got ashes on her nose. He moved farther into the clearing, eyes surveying the area as he finally relaxed. If no one was there then he didn't mind being there. It was a nice break from the dense woods he'd been traveling in all day and—

Then the building's door swung open.

Startled, he jumped, snorting—and that seemed to startle the person who stepped outside as well. The boy—he looked to be about fourteen or fifteen years old—jumped right along with him, eyes wide and shocked. They both froze, then, perfectly still as they stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity while Xia sat and looked back-and-forth between them.

"Ah!" The boy finally gasped, and lifted one hand to wave frantically in front of his face. His other hand held an empty bucket destined for who-knew-what. "I—sorry! I—I know I shouldn't—but no one was here, so I thought—I mean, oh Gods, I'm sorry! I'll go right now! Please don't get me in trouble!"

_:I—what? In trouble?: _A blank stare, followed by a blink. Why the boy was rambling at him he had no idea. _:Why would I—?"_

"I know I'm not supposed to be here, and I swear I haven't used anything up! I just needed somewhere to…" Trailing off then, he gave a shocked look. "You Spoke to me! Where's your Herald? Are you—you're not—here for _me,_ are you? I'm just—I'm homeless and an orphan, you don't want m—" Breaking off again, he frowned. "Wait, why do you have a rope around you? Is everything okay?"

The boy was feeding him half-information at best, and what he was sharing was disjointed and hard to follow. Something about the building and something called a "Herald"—did he have one and if so where was it?—and was he there for him? Whuffing, he shifted uncomfortably, then cast a glance back at the trailing rope. Why was it so distressing for him to be sporting one? Sure it was a little awkward to drag around, but…

_:A man tried to catch me a few hours ago. I managed to get away.: _He looked back at the boy again. _:Dragging it is a pain. Do you think you could you get it off of me?:_

"Get it—_oh!_ Of course!"

The bucket was dropped in an instant, clanging off the ground when it landed and startling Xia in the process, and the lad hurriedly scurried over to him. The rope had been pulled tight around his neck during his travels, but now it was quickly loosened, then tugged away and discarded. He sighed in relief at that, then lowered his head and shook himself out just to rid himself of the last remaining impressions of the rope.

Meanwhile, the boy was wrapping the rope up into a tidy bundle. "Someone tried to _catch_ you? Why would _anyone_ do that?"

_:I guess he thought someone lost me.: _A faintly disgusted ripple of hide, and he headed off across the clearing to take a long drink from the stream. He could feel eyes following him until he was finished and moved back over stand by the fire pit. Reaching down, he nudged the fallen bucket, picking it up in his teeth and righting it before setting it down again. _:Is there anything to eat here?:_

"Eat—?" He sounded confused. "But you're—don't you eat, you know, grass and stuff?"

_:I don't know. I think so? But oats or apples sound better.:_

"You… think so?" Even more confusion filtered into the boy's voice. He had finished bundling the rope already and now toyed with it absently while he frowned and clearly tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. "I—okay. Okay." Finally he sighed out a quick breath, making a dismissive hand gesture at the same time and then touching the same hand to his chest. "Look, let's start over. I'm Abby—Abner, I mean. What's your name?"

That was a hard question. _:I don't know.:_

"You don't _know?_" Disbelief. "What do you mean _you don't_ _know?_"

_:I _mean_ I _don't know_.: _He tried not to sound irritated, but one hoof stamped against the ground restlessly. _:I woke up in the forest last night and I can't remember anything. Not my name, not where I'm from, not even what I am. All I know for sure is that I'm not a normal horse.: _Sapphire eyes skimmed around before lighting on Xia, who was poking around the woodpile that was stacked against the side of the building beneath the window. There were probably mice scurrying about between the blocks. _:Her name is Xia, though. I named her that this morning. She's been following me around all day.:_

For his part, Abby simply tried not to gape at the creature in front of him. "But you're a _Companion_. How can you not know that?"

_:A Companion?: _

Abby nodded emphatically. He had seemed pinned in place, but now he began to move again, walking over to drop the coiled rope by the building's door and then heading to pick up the bucket. On his way past the Companion, though, he stopped in his tracks.

"Your tail!" He looked almost stricken. "What happened to your _tail?_"

_:I got it caught in the bushes.:_

While it was no longer a fresh wound, the long, fine silver hair of his tail was tinted the faintest red from the bit of blood that had seeped from it in the beginning. Truthfully, his tail had been the farthest thing from his mind the last few minutes, despite how badly it was still hurting. Abby, however, uttered a quiet concerned noise, then vanished into the cabin only to return moments later with a roll of bandages, a cloth and a bowl of clean, warm water. Without even saying anything more, he began cleaning out the injury. The stallion, meanwhile, craned his neck to watch while he worked.

_:Why did you think I would get you in trouble?:_

"Well, because I'm not a Herald. This is a Waystation, you know?" And then, "—ah. Right. You _don't _know. You don't remember." Finished with the cleaning, Abby quickly wrapped a section of bandage tightly around his tail, tying it neatly. He winced but didn't say anything. "Waystations are for Heralds and their Companions. They're not for everyday people." He sounded worried, "but I don't have anywhere else to go. I just needed somewhere to sleep—and I always hunt and fish for myself! I don't use up the Waystation supplies!"

The panicked tone to Abby's voice made him flinch lightly. From what he could tell, the boy had nothing to be guilty about. As far as he was concerned, everyone deserved a roof over their head, somewhere warm to sleep—and food. From what Abby was saying, even if he was borrowing the Waystation, he wasn't doing anything wrong.

_:I think any Heralds or Companions would understand.: _He said, and twitched his tail lightly to test the bandaging. _:Thanks for that.: _

"Sure. No problem."

Abby began cleaning up, tucking the rest of the roll of bandages under his arm and dumping the bowl of red-tinged water in the tree line behind the Waystation proper. Then he disappeared back inside for a few more minutes, eventually emerging with another bucket, this one clearly full of mixed oats and various grains.

"Here. I figure you're a Companion, so it's okay this time, yeah?"

Even if he had thought it wasn't okay, his stomach clearly disagreed with him. It growled loudly, and he perked at the smell of what was in the pail, then hurried over—and stuck his head in to begin inhaling the meal before Abby could even set it on the ground. The boy laughed softly, amused, then busied himself setting up a fire in the pit nearby.

"'Scuse me… Xia, right?" He nudged the cat out of the way of the woodpile, taking a few logs and then letting Xia go back to hunting whatever it was she was so interested in. "Anyway… what should I call you, if you don't have a name?"

_:I dunno.: _A shrug, and even though he answered the question, he didn't stop eating. _:I mean, I'm sure I_ have_ a name, I just don't know it, and—ooh! Dried apples!:_ A pause then, and he looked up and over toward Abby, chewing the fruit contentedly. _:I suppose I should think of something, though. Can't just go around letting people call me Hey You.: _Then, contemplatively; _:Two questions now: first, does this place have grooming brushes? And second, do you know how to use them?:_

Over by the fire pit, Abby was pushing around the first coals of his soon-to-be bonfire. He blinked slightly at the questions, then looked back over his shoulder toward the Waystation. "Maybe. I'd have to look." As for whether or not he knew how to use a currycomb, he pursed his lips lightly. "I can do an okay job, I guess… but I haven't exactly had much experience with horses—or, I mean, not that you're a _horse_, but you know…" Shaking his head, he finished with, "All I mean is, I could give it a try if you wanted.

_:I would very much like that.:_

"Okay. I'll look and see if I can find brushes. But there _should_ be some, considering what the Waystation is for and everything."

_:_Thank _you.: _His Voice carried heavy overtones of relief. He lowered his head to continue eating. _:You are my new best friend, Abby.:_

"Heh." Amused. "Don't adopt me so quickly. I can actually be a royal pain in the butt sometimes."

_:No parents and all?:_

"Yeah… something like that."

The tone to Abby's voice made him pause. He swallowed a mouthful of oats thickly, then looked over at the boy again. Bringing up Abby's parents was clearly not the right thing to do. Chagrined and guilty, he shifted awkwardly. _:Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.:_

"S'okay. I'm used to it."

With the fire going now, Abby stood, stretched, then returned to the station, reappearing a short time later with a currycomb. The stallion practically did a dance of glee, abandoning the last bits of his dinner to dance over and meet Abby halfway to the Waystation. Craning his neck, he lipped at the boy's hair appreciatively, then turned to present his left side to him. Abby chukled at that, lifting the brush to look at it for a moment before tentatively starting to brush.

The Companion practically melted, sighing out a quiet happy noise. He was in desperate need of a good brushing, his coat full of dirt and dust, tingeing him a off-white yellowish-grey. On top of that his mane and tail were a tangled mess—the brush wouldn't do much for them, but if the Waystation had a brush, it would likely have a comb as well. He hoped Abby would be willing to do that for him as well.

"Wow. You really are white as snow, aren't you? It's amazing."

_:All Companions are white and silver?:_

"Yep, and with blue eyes too—ah. Sorry kitty, I'm busy right now." Abby paused, looking down when Xia wandered over to rub up against his legs, and reached to give her a scritch before returning to what he had been doing. "I've never seen a real Companion up close before. They don't come out by Zalmon very often. We're about as far from Haven as you can get without leaving Valdemar completely."

_:Are they that rare?:_

"Well, it depends on where you are. In Haven they're not. That's where Companion's Field is."

_:Companion's Field? I don't…: _Trailing off, he shook his head. _:I've forgotten a lot, haven't I?:_

"Yes. But it's okay. If you get back to Haven I'm sure they'll help you." A slightly cheeky grin; "but first let me get you all snowy white again, or they won't recognize you at all." Then a short pause, and Abby tilted his head. "Hey, there you go. I'll call you Snow. What do you think?"

_:Snow…?: _He echoed, and considered for a moment. _:Yeah, I like that. Snow.:_

The brushing made him feel cleaner, yes—but having a _name_ made him feel like a _person_.


	4. Think

**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to their author.

**Notes:** Reviews are love! …no really. I love this story but no reviews makes me worry that it's no good. =/

Anyway, apologies for the time between this upload and my last. I moved house at the end of November and between packing, moving and unpacking (not to mention Christmas!) I've been unable to really write much the last bit. I should start getting back into it over the next couple weeks, though. :)

**WHIPSTITCH  
Chapter 3: Think  
By Senashenta**

Snow spent that night sleeping next to the fire outside of the Waystation. He was exhausted and between the heavy meal he'd finally had and Abby's passable grooming skills he slept deeply, with Xia curled up against his side as she had been the previous night.

When the sun came up the next morning it seemed to crawl over the treetops. When the light collided with his eyes, Snow whuffed softly in his sleep, slowly drifting back to consciousness a moment later, head nodding as his eyes cracked open and the last vestiges of a dream slipped from his grasp into nothingness. He snorted quietly, squinting into the sunrise, then stretched his neck out and yawned widely, shaking his mane out right after that. Beside him, disturbed by his movement, Xia gave a quiet, complaining mewling noise, lifting her head, expression sleepy.

_:Yeah, yeah. Good morning to you, too.: _

Inside the Waystation, Abby was apparently still asleep, which wasn't at all surprising considering it was barely dawn. For a moment, Snow considered simply turning his back to the rising sun and going back to sleep—but even as he was thinking about it, his stomach grumbled, demanding food, and Xia began to stand and stretch to ready herself for the day (though she still shot him a dirty look, which Snow assumed was for waking her up in the first place.)

Between one thing and another, various bits of fate were apparently conspiring to get him up and going for the day. So finally Snow heaved himself to his feet, stretching along the way, then surveyed the Waystation yard. The bucket that Abby had used to supply his dinner the night before was still sitting by the door to the Station and even though he knew it was empty, he found himself drifting over to poke his nose into it anyway with a wistful kind of sigh.

He briefly thought about going to the Waystation window and making a racket to wake Abby up, but then decided that that wouldn't be entirely fair of him given how friendly and helpful the boy had been with him the day before—so instead he told his stomach to shut up and quit trying to eat his backbone, then meandered over to the stream and drank his fill. The water thankfully placated his hunger for a moment or two.

That dealt with, Snow lifted his head from the stream, tossing his forelock out of his eyes in the process. Across the clearing, Xia was once again stalking around the woodpile—if they were there longer than a day or so, it was clear that she would take care of any mouse or rat problems the Station might have had before she arrived.

_Hungry._

Snow glowered at nothing in particular and very pointedly told the insistent voice in his head that was muttering about food to be quiet once again. Over by the woodpile, Xia, who had apparently managed to catch herself a mouse, looked over toward him curiously, the small rodent dangling lifelessly from her teeth. For a moment, Snow was jealous.

_:Must you flaunt your ability to feed yourself?:_

A smug little look from the cat made him snort. Then blue eyes turned down to the grass under his hooves.

Even though he wasn't a _horse_, per se—though he had no real idea what a "Companion" was, either—he was still a _herbivore_. He could eat grass. He probably _had_ in the past, in whatever place and life he had come from before the memory loss, and most likely on a regular basis. But somehow the idea of settling down for a meal of grass or hay just didn't have the same ring to it as hot mash did, or apples, or even the delicious little pocket-pies the cook at the Collegium made on cold winter days. In fact, _especially_ the delicious little pocket-pies that the cook at the Collegium made on cold winter da—

Wait.

Snow's thoughts ground to an abrupt halt, his hunger forgotten for a moment, because _how did he know about Cook and the pocket-pies?_

Eyes pinned on a spot of nothingness in front of him, Snow rewound his train of thought to the memory in question.

_Pocket-pies, pocket-pies…_

He remembered they were little pastries, usually with apple filling, made in the winter time when they didn't have access to fresh fruit. Dried apples (and sometimes cherries) were used to make them, and somehow, despite that, the pies always came out _exceptional_. They were called "pocket-pies" because they were small, portable, and the Trainees used them as pocket-warmers until they were cool enough to eat—or, in the case of the _Heraldic-_Trainees,to share with their Companions.

But those vague memories prompted more questions than answers, considering how much else there was that was still a complete blank. Snow whuffed out a frustrated noise—and right about then was when the Waystation door finally swung open and Abby stepped out into the sunlight. Snow jolted slightly at the sound of the door hinges, then shook himself out of the thought cycle he had been in.

_:Good morning.:_

"Mm," Abby agreed vaguely. He lifted one hand, swiping at his eyes and then ran his fingers through his hair before yawning widely. "'Mornin'." He looked around the clearing, eyes lighting on Xia for a moment before shifting over toward Snow. Abby tilted his head slightly. "You look… kind of upset. Everything okay?" And then; "I mean, I know, no memory and everything, but…"

_:No, I'm fine.: _Snow shook his head. _:Just hungry, that's all.:_

"Ah." A quick nod and Abby nicked the bucket from by the door. It rattled emptily, making Snow's ears swivel forward, perking. Abby laughed. "I'll get you some breakfast. What about your kitty friend? Xia, right?"

_:That's what I'm calling her.: _The stallion agreed. _:But I think she's alright. She's already caught a mouse for herself.: _His eyes drifted over to where the cat in question was already downing her self-serve meal, completely oblivious to the discussion going on around her.

Abby seemed to find the situation amusing, as he chuckled to himself even while he turned around and headed back into the Waystation, only to reappear a handful of moments later, the bucket once more full of oats and grains. He set the pail down by the fire pit.

"Do you want to eat it like this, or should I make it into porridge for you?"

Snow perked again. _:Would you make porridge? Really?:_

"Sure, of course."

The boy smiled at him, then began bustling about. He went back into the Waystation, emerging with a second bucket—and Snow watched him fill it with water from the stream, then head back to hang the pail over the fire pit. Then he quickly started a fire going, bringing the water to a boil before adding some of the oats and grains and—Snow was very pleased with the last bit—some dried fruits and vegetables that he'd found in one of the barrels inside the Station. That done, Abby set about mixing up some oat cakes for himself, then set them on one of the large rocks that ringed the fire to cook.

They were both quiet while Abby worked, the boy concentrating on what he was doing and Snow lost in thought once again. The only sounds were crackling from the licking flames in the fire pit, hissing from the pot and the occasional soft noise from over where Xia was once again stalking the edge of the Waystation woodpile.

Snow lowered his head to lip at the grass in front him, the motion almost curious but mostly absent in nature, his eyes half-focussed in front of him. His first tentative nibble wasn't bad—kind of vegetable-y, maybe a little bitter. He was just deciding that he had been right to wait for Abby and oat porridge, as it would be much tastier, when the boy across from him seemed to wrinkle his nose a little.

"Hey, Snow, are you sure everything's okay?" He wrinkled his nose a little, looking over. "You look… pensive."

_:Pensive?:_ Snow blinked, lifting his head again, then stamped one hoof lightly. _:Everything's… I mean.: _Sighing out a frustrated breath, he shook his head. _:I just… remembered something, I think.: _And then, vaguely and mostly to himself; _:Cook makes the pocket-pies in the winter.:_

"…the cook makes the what in the when-now?"

The blank look on Abby's face pretty much told the whole story—or, rather, it told the fact that he hadn't explained the whole story. Or _any_ of the story at all, actually.

Snow's eyes slid sideways, then back to his new friend. _:It's something from my old life… I think.:_

"Oh yeah?" Abby was still listening, but turned his attention to his oat cakes for long enough to flip them over. "Well… that's good, right?" Lifting one hand to his mouth, he licked a bit of oat off of his thumb, tilting his head slightly at the same time. "Sounds like you're starting to get your memory back. I mean, a little at a time is better than nothing, right?"

_:Yeah.: _Snow agreed. He shifted a little. _:I suppose.:_

But he actually wasn't very sure at all.


End file.
